


Bruce Sucks at Homework

by Batsymomma11



Series: The Details of Being A Dad [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Batfamily Feels, Common Core, Domestic Fluff, Family Bonding, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Homework, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 09:38:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16238987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsymomma11/pseuds/Batsymomma11
Summary: Bruce tries to help Damian with his math homework and manages to only make matters worse. What's Common Core? And why on earth is it harder than just doing it the old way?





	Bruce Sucks at Homework

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own DC or its characters. I do own this little one-shot. 
> 
> Enjoy!

               “Why do they want you to do that? It makes no logical sense.”

                Damian wrinkled his nose, green eyes narrowing on Bruce’s face with an expression of exasperation. They’d spent well over an hour hunched over Damian’s desk in his bedroom, trying to go over his Algebra homework. Not that Damian exactly needed any help. But Bruce had been feeling nostalgic and had wanted to connect with his youngest on an academic level, much like he’d had the opportunity to do over the years with his other children.

                That had been a mistake.

                Mostly because from the time Timothy had last asked for his help in math to the present, everything about math itself had apparently changed. And Bruce’s methods were now wrong.

                “It isn’t how they want it done, Father. Mr. Chan said it needed to be done the way I showed you. And I’m expected to show my work. I can’t do what you just did and not lose points.”

                “But that adds three steps. They’ve dumbed it all down.”

                “I agree, as I did before, that the extra steps are unnecessary, but I have no other way of doing it.”

                It was almost eight o’clock, the house was silent but the hush of ticking old grandfather clocks and the purring of luxurious air conditioning. The hard wood floors were cool and glossy to the touch and despite the fact that Alfred hadn’t cleaned Damian’s room in days, there was still the indulgent smell of lemon oil clinging to the wood of the desk. To the floor and the four-poster frame of the bed at their backs.

                It smelled like home and like his son. Like the mint candies in the dish sitting on his desk, that Damian favored and Alfred’s pervading polish. All things that should have been soothing in and of themselves, if not for the subject matter they were discussing. If not for the fact that Bruce had been arguing for the last hour over a moot point. 

                Bruce scrubbed a hand down his face, looked askance at his agitated son then sighed loudly. “God, I’ve lost my touch. I should have left this alone.”

                “It’s not your fault. Common Core has thrown many adults. I hear from the other students that you are not the only parent complaining.”

                Bruce laughed, long and hard, tipping back in the chair so he could simultaneously stretch the taut muscles in his back. He’d spent a long day in meetings at WE, only to come home and dance himself headlong into _this_. And Damian hadn’t even wanted or needed his help. Instead, he’d spent the last hour with his fourteen-year-old son teaching him how to solve quadratic equations via the Common Core method. God, his head hurt. He’d not felt so mind-numbingly frustrated or ignorant in quite some time.

                He had a migraine coming on and could really use a bottle of Excedrin, a cold beer, and something to eat.

                “I’m sorry Damian.”

                Damian frowned, “Why?”

                “Because I came up here to spend time with you. To help you. And instead you’ve wasted valuable time explaining your homework to _me_. This can’t have been pleasant for you.”

                A sly grin stretched over Damian’s mouth and marked him the devil, “On the contrary, I liked knowing more than you for once.”

                “Don’t get used to it.”

                “Of course not, Father.”

                Bruce sighed, “Should we go steal something out of the kitchen? Tim won’t be home till late and Alfred said he was going out for Bingo.”

                “At that retirement home?”

                Bruce shrugged a shoulder, “He’s getting up there in years. Those are his people now.”

                “I can’t see Pennyworth having anything in common with them. He’s—well, he’s Pennyworth.”

                “I know what you mean. But you’d be surprised how normal he is when away from us. Makes you wonder what he’d be doing if we didn’t demand all his time.”

                Damian cocked his head, “He’d be miserable without us.”

                Bruce smiled, “Probably true. C’mon. Let’s get some food.”

                They headed down to the kitchen and put together cold-cut subs and chips, digging into the back of the pantry for the soda that Bruce kept hidden from the boys and Alfred. Damian merely lifted a brow but said nothing when he was offered one of the sacred Cokes. They silently padded into the family room, propped their feet on the coffee table then flipped on the TV and watched evening news on BBC while they stuffed their faces.

                After a quarter of an hour, Bruce was already finished, and Damian’s attention was rapt on the news, his eyes narrowed with focus. No other teenager watched news like Damian Wayne did. He’d apparently emptied his plate sometime before Bruce. Which meant he’d have to have eaten in record time.  

                “What do you have going on this weekend?”

                Damian only lifted a shoulder, his eyes still glued to the TV, “Nothing.”

                “No plans with friends?”

                “Friends?” Damian murmured, still distracted.

                “Yes, you do have a few don’t you? I thought you and Jon were exceedingly close.”

                Damian’s brow wrinkled as he finally turned to look at Bruce. “Yes, we’re close. But I don’t see him as a friend. He’s more like a brother. And he’s busy this weekend. Family time.”

                “I talked with Dick this morning.”

                “Oh?”

                Any mention of Bruce’s eldest son and Damian always tried to play it cool. His expression would go carefully neutral, but he would lean forward, his attention entirely on whatever was going to be said. He did his best to appear snappish or unfeeling when it came to most members of the family, but for some reason, Dick was an exception. Dick was the one person, Damian couldn’t seem to hide his feelings from. That, or Bruce. Though Damian’s feelings towards Bruce were much more about loyalty and a familial love than they were about friendship.

                 “Yes, he said he’d liked to stay over for the weekend. I thought it might be a good time for family. We could go to the lake house for the weekend. Just us.” 

                Damian visibly brightened, a smile stretching across his mouth, “You mean it?”

                “I do. Dick was the one who suggested it.”

                “I—” Damian swallowed, a tremor of something passing through his gaze, “That would be wonderful, Father.”

                “Even if I invite Jason?”

                Damian rolled his eyes, “There is nothing to be done about Todd. Or Drake. But I understand they are family and need to be there as well,” he paused, considering the TV again, “Besides, they make an even number of teammates, should we decide to play any number of games.”

                “I do remember you have a particular fondness for Monopoly.”

                He nodded, eyes softening to baby green, face opening like a flower under the sun. “Yes. And you always manage to cheat at Yahtzee.”

                Bruce laughed, scooting closer to Damian to sling an arm over his son’s shoulder. Damian surprised him, by snuggling in tighter rather than away, propping his socked feet on top of Bruce’s on the coffee table.

                “You can’t cheat at Yahtzee. It’s all about chance.”

                Damian snorted, “Somehow Father, you’ve managed it. We all know. We just don’t know how. No one can get that many Yahtzees and not be cheating.”

                Bruce grinned, pressing a loud kiss to the crown of hair brushing his nose. “I’m a lucky guy, what can I say?”

                Damian merely rolled his eyes.

               

**Author's Note:**

> Not bashing Common Core, just using my own experience for humor :)


End file.
